


A Compendium of Our Thoughts

by PSIDontKnow



Category: Original Work
Genre: Multi, so many characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-30
Updated: 2013-11-30
Packaged: 2018-01-03 01:09:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PSIDontKnow/pseuds/PSIDontKnow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A compendium (plural: compendia) is a concise, yet comprehensive compilation of a body of knowledge. A compendium may summarize a larger work.  It could also be referred to as a tome.<br/>The word compendium arrives from the Latin word "compenso", meaning "to weigh together or balance".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> In other words, Tyr is gathering all her small drabbles in hopes she may actually write the full stories

                You’ve been waiting in your own purgatory for years. You’ve lost count of how many years you’ve been dead, lost count of that when thirty years after that you lost your way to speak with _her_. When the crystal children died, the sub realm you resided in should have disappeared, but you and Sypheria have been maintaining it, paying it by not being able to leave or contact anyone. Your golemns have long since been used for energy to maintain the world around you. The German ghost who lived with you said it was so that you two had a place for your friends to come after they died, but you knew it’s because she didn’t want to die again.

                NV and King come to you at the beginning of the war, explaining that the humans had snuck up and killed them during peace talks. Sasha comes not long after them, along with others. You welcome your niece and nephew with a sorrowful smile. You flat out cry when your sister-in-law shows up. She helps you keep track of who comes and goes now, assuring you that your brother and _her_ will survive in this warscaped land. Sasha joins you two until his wife shows up, both of them crying about leaving their young daughter behind. A surly strawberry blond who Sypheria says is the alchemyst’s son paces everyday after he shows up. She cries when her lover and his sister show up.

                More come and go, but none of them are ever _her._ Others tell you of her as they pass through. A pair of grey women tell you that they heard of her fighting on the front lines along side the general. Your other sister-in-law tells you this is true. Your mother says that she would make The Morrigan excited with her battle skills, and your twin says that she serves well as the queen of the decimated Demonikyn. A teen that looks like the surly man, but is not dead, helps you to make a way that everyone can see their loved ones on earth, but you don’t want to tease yourself with the image of her without being able to talk with her. Sypheria watches these glasses constantly, crying at the damage the Alchemyst does to himself, explaining that nothing can kill him, so he must watch everyone he loves die and you want to vomit from the thought of that.

                Years pass and more people come, the surly man finally smiling when a woman arrives, both of them smiling with a quiet understanding. There are so many more loved ones that come, so many people that go that the realm is almost empty again, leaving only you, Sypheria, and a small handful of stragglers to wait and still _she_ hasn’t come. You’re ready to go on, to give up when she does show up, and you feel a bitter swirl of sadness and joy at the sight of her. She looks older, new scars marring her body, her once silky, shoulder length hair was dirty and hacked short to be battle manageable. She still smiles that shy, unsure smile when she finds you waiting.

                You want to revel in that smile, savor it, but you can’t because you’re up and running, gathering her into your arms and holding her tight. She’s thinner than before, less soft hiding muscle and more muscle hiding bone and you want to scream about it. You don’t, settling to simply cry and hold her close. She tells you that it’s been one hundred and sixteen years since you died and maybe a little over ninety since the war had started. She told you that it had been a losing battle for the past eighty of those years, but she had still fought and you were so proud of her for staying and fighting. She cried softly like she always had and you told her about your years living in the purgatory, telling her that you’ve waited for so long.

                “We’ve both waited long enough, right?” She asks softly and you agree with her. Once you both have stopped crying, you tell Sypheria that you two are leaving, heading onto whatever’s next. She responds that she and the Alchemyst’s oldest son are going back to Earth to keep his father company. The four of you are the last people left in the realm anyway, it was time to let it crumble away. You all say your goodbyes, heading to different ends of the realm. She tightens her hold on your hand before speaking, sparking memories from when you were children.

                “Luan and Kira, together forever.”

                “Forever and ever.”

                Your name is Luan Malak, and you have nothing left to wait for.


	2. My Name?

                “That thing is amazing, it’s like three hundred plus years of grime is gone! What did you call it again Yehre?” Ollie winced as Honour said that hated name so casually.

                “Call me Ollie, Honour. And it’s a shower, you picked up slang from our sisters but not anything else?” He chuckled as she pouted.

                “Excuse me Mr. High-and-Bitchy.” She puffed out, once more going to town on her damp curls with the towel on her head. It was a problem she’d always had, never being able to get her hair dried all the way Olli mused. It had been like that even before she’d split and le- no, it’s not good to think like that. Both of their head jerked around at the sound of screams coming from the kitchen.

                “YEHRE, YEHRE, THIS DEMON POSSESSED THING MUST GO!” Noble yelled as they walked in there, pointing at the blender that was still running.

                “It’s a blender Noble, and please, call me Ollie.” He rubbed his head, trying to dispel the forming migraine as he walked over to the cot he slept on in the kitchen to try and coax his other sibling out from underneath it.

                “C’mon Santo, it’s Yehre, nothing’s going to hurt you.” He spoke softly, only using the name to help calm down the most fragile of them. After a few more soothing words, Santo finally came out, sitting next to Ollie and whimpering.

                “Who’s Yehre?” All of them froze at the soft voice, Ollie craning his head back to see the boy who stood in the kitchen doorway. “Who’s everyone?” Yahto tucked his head down further into his scarf, arms wrapped around a paper bag coming up higher as he tried to hide in plain sight from the unfamiliar people. His bright purple eyes flicked around warily as Ollie stood up.

                “They’re old friends Yahto, they’re _friends_.” He stressed the word as he took the bag from the boy, setting it down on a nearby counter. “Here, do you wanna talk to them?” The boy shook his head, acting much younger than he looked. “Here, how about you and Santo go outside? You don’t have to talk, just pass notes in a notebook.” He gave the same speech to Santo, convincing his youngest brother to go outside and sit on the porch, the shy boogeyman and mute god holding a conversation in a notebook.

                “Why do you even live here? I mean, you can manifest money, can’t you?”

                “Yes, but I need people Noble. That’s possibly a foreign concept to you two warriors, but I needed a home.” He glared at the teen who’s whip cord tail was flicking around, almost mirroring the image of his own long, furry tail.

                “You stay because they’re just as damaged as us.” They both look at Honour, the girl rooting through cupboards for something edible as she said that. “I may be a warrior, but I’m Kiamara’s heart Ollie, I’m not that stupid. There’s a saying that Sonrisa often says to Quest, or thinks at her. Misery loves company.” She turned her evergreen eyes to him as she pulled down a bag of chips. “Can you open these?” In that moment, with her eyes seeing all the truths in his soul as she held a bag of chips out to him, he felt it summed her up nicely.

                Ollie waited until he had sent his siblings into the shed that Manika kept for guests to pull Yahto off to the side. The boy had been sidestepping him all day, avoiding talking to him, but still giving him a strange look.

                “Whatcha want Yahto?” He asked softly, pulling the boy out the window and onto some of the monstrous branches their house sat on. It was one of the perks to the Boogeyman encampment.

                “Who’s Yehre? What are those others doing here?” The boy’s bright purple eyes held an edge of fear and maybe a little resentment.

                “It’s- it’s complicated Yahto, they’re my family. My brothers and sister.”

                “But you told Manika that you were an only child.”

                “As I said, it complicated.” He sighed, closing his eyes for only a moment before he was getting lifted by the front of his shirt.

                “That’s an idiotic excuse, _Yehre_. Tell us the truth.” The words were growled, tired brown eyes staring into purple that had morphed to yellow. Ollie just sighed, the thousands of years of life taking its toll on him in the late (or was it early?) hours.

                “Don’t call me that, Yehre died a long time ago, before he had to watch his family and himself die over and over again.” He really hated saying anything to the kid, but something like that should put his darker side back on the shelf. True to his prediction, the yellow orbs swirled back to purple, and Yahto let go of his shirt.

                “I’m sorry, I’m- oh fiddlesticks.” Yahto toyed with the end of the long, thin ponytail he normally kept tucked in his jackets, his deer-like ears drooping.

                “Nothin’ wrong done. My life is not one but many.”

                “Who else have you been then?”

                “No one important, a demon here, a beggar there, always living until I get killed.” He let out a mirthless chuckle, staring at the slivered moon. “I’ve yet to die naturally, or just bore of a life. I’ve died so many times, and each time, it feels like I’m just waiting for the blade to…fall.” His eyes widened as a thought came to mind. With no warning, he scampered down back into the house through the window they’d left out of, only staying inside long enough to leave, heading on the bridge paths for the guest sheds. He burst through the one he’d set his siblings up in, quickly running over to Noble. His green fingers traced along a slender line across the boy’s neck, his nail catching on the line when his hand turned sideways. He got a similar product when he checked Santo’s neck.

                “Noble, Noble, sit up.” He hissed, shaking his brother awake.

                “Mmm, Yehre, what, what goin’ on? Attack?” The teen asked sleepily, yawning and rubbing his eyes.

                “No, just…Just stay still and close your eyes, I’m about to do something really stupid.” Noble gave him a disbelieving look, but closed his hazel eyes, taking a deep breath. Ollie did the opposite, letting out all his air as he set his hands on either side of the other’s head. He silently counted backwards from five before wrenching up with all his strength.

                “What the fuck did you do?” Noble growled as he opened his eyes to Ollie’s incredulous face.

                “…You’re headless.”

                “YOU TOOK MY HEAD YOU FUCKING DIPSHIT!!!!” His scream was loud enough to wake Honour, though Santo just buried deeper into his covers.

                “THE FUCK IS GOING ON?!” She shrieked at the sight of her brother holding her other brother’s head minus his body.

                “Well they were revived after being decapitated, so I wanted to see if this would work.” Ollie’s grin was approaching maniac levels as Noble’s headless body reached for the head he kept moving away from the wandering hands. He cackled, tossing the head over to Honour.

                “Hello, brother.” She spoke sweetly, her small smile not comforting in the least.

                “Put my head back on my body right now Honour Vega!” She smiled softly, looking over to see the body that was trying to feel its way over to her bed.

                “Oh, you didn’t say please, so I’m going to leave your body searching for your head like a vision impaired beggar for a bit longer.”  

                “I hate you so much.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mostly just testing the waters with these characters


End file.
